


God is dead

by LightningFB1



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-01-29 03:47:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12622492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningFB1/pseuds/LightningFB1
Summary: Fareeha had never been sure what would wait for her after death.It had been something she had thought about many times, even more often after losing her mother, but she had never found an explanation that sounded acceptable. There was no doubt there was something, but what that was remained a mystery. Of all things expected, a fucking angel complete with beautiful white wings at her back, was not first on the list. It hit her then, that she was dying.But Fareeha wasn’t ready to die.





	1. Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> I’m back, with some Pharmercy. Please, bear with me as I explore different formats and styles (still so very new to this). And language is still a pain! But I’m enjoying writing in English, broken and all. 
> 
> This will have a second and possibly third part I’ve already written but need to work more on. It’s gonna be M-rated so you can stop at chapter one or wait for what’s next if you’re a sinner like *points at self*. 
> 
> I’m not sorry, by the way. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

 

> _What, if some day or night a demon were to steal after you into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: ‘This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more’ ... Would you not throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse the demon who spoke thus? Or have you once experienced a tremendous moment when you would have answered him: ‘You are a god and never have I heard anything more divine._
> 
> **– Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science**

 

Chapter 1: Fate

 

 

The city was asleep, the night silent except for the sound of footsteps against cobblestone. Someone was in a rush, the tapping a quick succession. The runner didn’t seem to mind the occasional puddle on their way, if the splash of water was anything to go by. When a second pair of feet joined in, it became clear the first one was trying to outrun them. The chaser was lighter on their feet, agile and fast, but while the other wasn’t half as quick, they sounded heavier and the strides were much longer.

Mercy’s eyes scanned the source of the noise with curiosity from her perch atop a small building across the street. The bakery with walls painted in pastel colors didn’t look like it belonged there, surrounded by old looking houses and in the shadow of the abandoned, burned down tower.

Her instincts were kicking in, the blood in her veins already running faster. Something important was going on here, and nothing important ever happened since the Last Stand had taken place.

The park was a beacon of light that was almost blinding and made the mouth of the alley where the footsteps echoed look darker. The runners remained hidden by the annoying interference even after they took a turn towards the dim lit street at the corner. There was the subtlest hint of movement and a soft rustle of feathers, followed by the sound of a buzzing lamp going off, and then another, and another… one by one, every single lamp along the Lantern Lane.

It was dark again and Mercy was gone with the light.

 

**…**

 

The sound of the gunshot reached her before the smell of blood and gunpowder. The sensations felt horrid, fire and blistering heat clawing at her skin in the most vivid memory she’d had in a while, the yells and pained moans echoing inside her skull, the sight of scarred bodies littering the scorched soil passing through her mind eye.

Mercy suppressed a shudder.

There, crouching in an odd stance under a streetlamp, much like a puppet whose strings had been cut loose, was a young woman. Crimson stained her white shirt, pained dark eyes losing focus as she struggled to her feet.

There was a brief second of contemplation and a sigh. Walking with calmness she didn’t feel, the distance between them narrowed, Mercy stood tall and proud in front of the slouched form. Once more, the woman fell to her knees and gasped, Mercy’s attention flickering to the one hand applying pressure to the bullet wound on her chest. Blood kept pouring out and soaking the suit pants and the concrete beneath expensive looking black dress shoes.

It wouldn’t be too long before she was gone.

The seconds it took for the decision to be made, it was her duty to end her pain after all, were enough for the other woman to rasp out a sound and flinch away. She was staring straight into her eyes with barely contained panic, and Mercy’s eyes widened at the recognition she saw there. The woman tried to speak again, but nothing but a strangled noise came out of her mouth.

Mercy was frozen, staring back into this woman’s soul. She was being seen for the first time in… centuries, maybe.

 

**…**

 

Fareeha had never been sure what would wait for her after death.

It had been something she had thought about many times, even more often after losing her mother, but she had never found an explanation that sounded acceptable. There was no doubt there was something, but what that was remained a mystery. Of all things expected, a fucking _angel_ complete with beautiful white wings at her back, was not first on the list. It hit her then, that she was dying.

But Fareeha wasn’t ready to die.

The angel reached for her, her hand was… shaking? It was reaching for her cheek and Fareeha turned her head away from it. She was stubbornly grasping at the shreds of her connection to the living. Never going down without a fight.

That kind of mindset was what had put her in this conundrum in the first time, Fareeha pondered. Now she was going to die because she was too much of a knight in shining armor to ignore that stupid, drunk misogynist that had showed up at her best friend’s wedding and threatened one of the guests. A woman a couple years younger than herself, her face was still easy to recall despite the dizziness taking over from blood loss.

Maybe, if she hadn’t intervened, the bullet would have pierced that other woman’s chest… and she would be drinking and dancing the night off.

Maybe, however, it had been for the best to stay true to herself. Even if it meant she wouldn’t tell the tale.

Maybe this wasn’t the time to question her life choices, when an angel was kneeling down in front of her, looking at Fareeha like _she_ was the one who had grown _huge wings_.

Maybe it was time to question why that fucking hole in her chest had stopped hurting all of the sudden, instead.

 

**…**

“Are you taking me to God?”

Mercy stared at the woman in her arms for a moment before she burst into laughter and Fareeha noticed just then that something _big_ was off.

She couldn’t hear her laughing, but she could feel it. It was a feeling akin a tingling on her skin, and somewhere deeper, and in her chest, and inside her skull.

_“What the fuck—“_

It was some sort of vibration in the air that was automatically associated to memories from long ago. The bell chiming when someone walked into the small clinic her mother had run when Fareeha was six. Back when they they lived in the house with the broken window and the blue walls. Whenever it rained, they would have to put buckets and pottery everywhere because the rain would leak in and drip down from several darkened spots on the ceiling.

The sounds were no longer there, none of them, but something else was. It felt like she could hear _more_. It was too hard to understand, so complicated to put into words even if she was only trying to explain it to herself, and she was so fucking tired.

There was soft understanding in the angel’s eyes as her laughter died and a warm but sad smile curled her lips.

“No. That’s not my job,” the angel finally replied. Her accent was thick and hypnotic, a hundred thousand thoughts and memories plaguing Fareeha’s mind as the words were spoken.

It should have been confusing, exhausting even, but the images in her mind flowed in ordered patterns. It was continuous but never suffocating. Like walking down an art gallery without trying to take in too much detail all at once, something she could enjoy and bask in without feeling overwhelmed.

Fareeha narrowed her eyes at the angel, glancing briefly at the wings that slapped against a stubborn current of air trying to change their course. The angel spoke again, her voice steady, “God is dead.”

“…Nietzsche?”

There it was again, that laughter. That melodic tune tingled across her skin and raised the small hairs at the nape of her neck.

“No,” The angel shook her head, amused, “she really is dead.”

 

**…**

 

It was exhilarating to be able to talk to someone again. Mercy could only hope her healing was enough; she could only hope this woman would agree to carry on with her Fate. It must have been her lucky day… year… millennia? Whatever, the woman was a sight for sore eyes.

“I would _love_ to give you a tour and talk about it… But you have a choice to make, Fareeha.”

Fareeha, still dazzled apparently, blinked her eyes a couple times in confusion. Whether it was because of Mercy was using her name or because of the last statement, it was hard to tell.

“Will you join us and fulfill your Fate?”

 

**…**

Fareeha had no idea where they were or why the pain – _all of it_ – had been replaced with a dull, throbbing ache. The hole in her chest had turned into a scar in… less than half an hour? All she knew was there were far more colors than she could recall have seen, ever.

Weird, huh?

Back on her own two feet, fingers experimentally curling and uncurling, Fareeha felt like the incident before had been nothing but a nightmare. Had it not been for the strange shades and colors and the way the sounds played with her brain, of course. There was also the fact that a _winged woman_ , _haloed_ in white light, was still right _in front of her_.

The angel let her go through the quick inspection without questioning or explaining and merely leaned back on—Where the hell had _that_ come from? It looked a lot like a throne of sorts… The angel was leaning back on it, lounging lazily without averting her eyes from Fareeha as she carefully tried flexing her left arm.

No pain at all, but the skin felt tight on her chest above the wound. Still, it was better than having the flesh of her pectoral shredded to pieces. Now that she felt more confident about her physical condition, her curiosity was back with a vengeance. The angel could have been made of marble for all she knew, she hadn’t moved an inch since the self-inspection had started, and Fareeha was growing a bit impatient, and a bit flustered too.

“So,” She cleared her throat, letting her discomfort be known. The angel’s smile widened slightly but her attention was still on her and not a word escaped her lips. “You were saying?,” Fareeha’s eyebrows knit together, one corner of her mouth downwards in a lopsided frown. She waved her hand in front of her own flushed face. “… About that choice?”

“My, my… youth nowadays... So impatient,” One perfectly sculpted eyebrow rose and the angel’s smile slowly turned into a smirk. “I was enjoying the gun show.”

It was probably the teasing tone. Whatever it was… Way to throw her back to her early teen years. Fareeha had made a fool of herself in front of her crush and kept stammering lame excuses for being caught staring during chemistry. A weird frothy reflux was coming out of her flask.  Purple. It was supposed to be yellow. And now it was on her lab coat. Well wasn’t that fucking fantastic?

_“Fucking God, aren’t angels supposed to be_ nice _?!”_

Her jaw locked and Fareeha averted her eyes, her dark complexion wasn’t hiding the blush anymore.

 

**...**

 

“You’ll see. Only Fated Angels can _See_ other angels. I’ve been around for a while,” Fareeha’s curiosity spiked, how long was a while in angels’ terms? “And you are the first one I’ve ever met.” She remained quiet nevertheless, the explanation went on.

According to the angel - _and angels wouldn't lie, right?_ -, there was this Fate thing. It was a huge deal for angels and hers was to become one of them. Pretty cool, right? Of course, she could say no.

So, on the bright side, she could become one of the soldiers against eschaton. On the not so bright side, she was still dying. The only thing keeping her alive was her connection to this angel.

Then again, angels were kind of immortal... she could continue to exist if she joined them. It was either dying _or_ selling her soul and fighting the end of the world, easy choice!

 

Fareeha was so damn screwed...

 

**…**


	2. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is getting longer than I originally planned, but I'm enjoying it so much... I swear my idea was to keep it really short. Hopefully one more chapter and we are done. You're awesome for sticking around, I hope you know that!

> “She had a wild, wandering soul   
>  but when she loved, she loved with chaos and that made all the difference.”
> 
> ― Ariana Dancu.

 

 

Chapter 2: Revelations

 

 

“How does it work?”

The angel’s eyes were fixated on her own hands. Upon closer inspection, there was the faintest yellow glow coming out of her fingertips. Fareeha felt a bit lightheaded. The world around her had started to get blurry. The angel remained silent.

“Huh… A-Angel?”

That got her attention, her head tilted to the side. The angel stared back at Fareeha, a glint of amusement dancing in the deepest blue eyes she’d ever seen. For a moment Fareeha fell silent as well, forgetting her questions. Blue was all she could see. She was drowning in the ocean, but her lungs kept pulling breath after steady breath with no struggle. It felt peaceful and cool and refreshing. It felt like freedom.

“Mercy.”

That snapped her out of her stupor. Fareeha shook her head, shivering slightly. She stared through half-lidded eyes. “Beg your pardon?”

“It’s my name,” the angel… Mercy, stated. “Well, it’s been for quite some time.” Fareeha caught a hint of sadness and stored the knowledge for later. The reason behind that feeling seemed a quite personal question to ask. “What should I call you?”

With the choice made, Fareeha’s life would be left behind. That included her identity. The name came to her without the need to look for it, carved in the back of her mind since forever. “Pharah.”

“It’s a pleasure, Pharah.” Mercy extended her hand and Fareeha shook it. Her thumb traced the back of Mercy’s hand. Her skin was so soft.

Fareeha considered the possibility of being high on something. It made sense, actually. Maybe all of this was a part of a weird trip. Anyone could have put something in her drink, that champagne had tasted different. And Lena had mentioned she needed to unwind. Had her best friend drugged her? Lena. Fareeha wouldn’t be allowed to see Lena anymore, talk to her, tease her about her life as a married woman. Even if she tried to visit her, her friend wouldn’t be able to _See_ her. Her fingers tightened around the smaller hand in her grasp, a line forming across her forehead.

“I will need that hand if you want to survive the process.”

Panicked brown eyes snapped to Mercy’s before they darted to their still joined hands.

“I’m sorry.” Fareeha snatched her hand back and felt the loss right away. Mercy just chuckled. A low, musical sound that rose goosebumps on her arms. Just like that, the pain that had been growing inside her chest became tolerable. “I was—”

The angel was nodding her head. “It’s intense at first. You’ll get used to it.” Her smile was genuine, the sadness from before either gone or well hidden behind a practiced mask. “The Transition started the moment I stopped your death, Pharah. I just need to let it continue, now that you’ve accepted your Fate.”

It was easy, then. To assume her slip had been due to her enhanced senses and emotions.

 

**…**

Fareeha felt light, like she was floating. Her vision had blurred to the point it had made her head spin. Mercy had told her it was best to lie down and close her eyes. Now even if she opened them, darkness and white spots was all she could see, a night sky full of stars. It had been bizarre, the room they were in had been blinding white and it had been hard to tell where up and down were. Contours and silhouettes had never stopped flashing and dissolving in her peripherals. When Fareeha had sat down, the floor – _was that the floor?_ – had felt soft and comfortable. Surreal, all this experience had been so fucking surreal.

“Will I be able to fly?”

Right now, the only thing keeping her anchored to reality was the hand on her forehead.

“Yes,” Mercy’s voice was everywhere, but after the night Fareeha had had, nothing felt so weird anymore. “Eventually, your wings will come to you.”

That was a boomer. Flying was one of the things Fareeha was looking forward to. A soft hum of appreciation rumbled in her chest as careful fingertips moved to her temples and massaged in slow circles.

“Will you stay with me?”

A moment later, Mercy’s forehead touched hers, blond hair tickling her cheeks. “Of course.”

The honesty in her tone had Fareeha’s heart skipping in a beat, a truth that tasted like her father’s homemade molasses cookies. There wasn’t enough time to think about the way her skin felt like it was burning before the fog surrounding her consciousness became thicker.

“Now get some sleep,” Fareeha yawned. “This is going to be the last time you’ll have to, so make sure you enjoy your nap.”

 

**…**

 

“Stop trying to force it.”

A scam. That’s what it felt like. A fucking scam. What kind of Angel was stuck grounded after all?

“I’m useless like this! I can’t keep up with you,” The whiny tone in her voice annoyed her, just not as much as the frustration building up since that night months ago, “how long is it gonna take?”

“I told you, they’ll come to you. You’re trying too hard.”

Fareeha huffed and Mercy smiled that damn smile of hers. “Shouldn’t you be mentoring me or something instead of making fun of my misfortune?”

This time, Mercy laughed. Fareeha couldn’t help the way her frustration bled away, despite the fact that she should have been used to it already. It would have made her mad again, if madness was something she could get a grasp on while Mercy’s mood molded and affected hers. Stupid angels and their stupid empathic… thingy.

“How long did it take you to get them?”

Mercy leaned back on her hands, fingers tapping on the roof tiles. The pause gave Fareeha all the information she needed; she wasn’t going to like the answer. “A week or so…”

“A week?!” Fareeha deflated, shoulders slumping. Her grumpiness was back and Mercy’s calmness reached for her harder, stronger. The air in her lungs left her in a slow exhale, scalp tingling and hands no longer trying to drill holes through the edge of the rooftop. “Am I defective or what?”

“You’re _fine_.”

Fareeha couldn’t suppress the images swarming her mind; nor could she help the smirk that came to her lips. It was probably Mercy’s influence on her mood again.

“So you’ve told me.”

A shrug. “Angels don’t lie.”

Mercy smirked back.

 

**…**

 

“Did you kill God?”

Mercy shrugged her shoulders. They had been spending the nights like this, enjoying the sight of the city at its calmest hours. The lights of the few cars on the streets danced and singed, a harmony of color that remained there for minutes before it vanished. Days were loaded with unfortunate events they needed to take care of, but nights were peaceful.

“We all did.”

This woman and her cryptic answers. You asked for facts, you got philosophical answers. Every single time.

“All as in, ‘ _a battalion of rebel Angels wielding celestial swords_ ’ or as in, ‘ _the people of this world, their lack of faith and the greenhouse effect_ ’?” Fareeha tilted her head back, trying to catch Mercy’s gaze without moving from the comfortable position lying on her lap.

“I don’t think the greenhouse effect had anything to do with God’s death,” Mercy looked down, locking her gaze with Fareeha’s. “Everything else sounds about right.”

“Were you with them? Those Angels, I mean.”

“Yes,” Mercy averted her eyes, focusing on the grey clouds above. “I saw many of them struck by God’s righteous wrath.” A humorless laugh resounded in Fareeha’s ears and a mix of dark emotions plagued her mind all at once, making her visibly cringe. Mercy fingers threaded through dark locks. Fareeha relaxed, Mercy sighed. “I’m sorry. My memories of those times aren’t the fondest, you see. I lost someone in the war, someone I loved deeply. Someone I wasn’t supposed to love.”

“You did?” What a fucking stupid question to ask. But Fareeha wanted to know more, this was the first time in almost a year Mercy had spoken about anything personal. There was a tinge of jealousy staining her thoughts, her emotions. Mercy had surely noticed, but didn’t comment on it.

“Her name was Amélie,” Fareeha’s brow furrowed. That didn’t sound like an Angel’s name at all. A human? “She was a Fallen one, one of the few who rebelled against God’s authority.” Fareeha felt the pain, her own emotions clouded by the sorrow bleeding from Mercy’s heart. “She was mine and I was hers.”

For a minute silence was absolute. Fareeha could feel in her bones the sorrow changing into rage. Anger so deeply rooted and so powerful, it had her gritting her teeth.

“God wouldn’t accept that. Anyone who dared rise against God was meant to suffer for eternity. Love and happiness were only meant for those who agreed to follow like sheep, without questioning God’s word.”

Against better judgment, Fareeha reached for Mercy’s hand. Carefully, almost scared to push too hard, she brought it to her lips and kissed the knuckles before lacing their fingers together.

“I’m sorry.”

Mercy sighed again, getting a grip on her fleeting emotions. Fareeha felt the muscles of her back losing their tension, the buzzing inside her head dying.

“Me too.”

 

**…**

 

“How many Angels are there? Is Lucifer real? Gabriel?”

Mercy hummed as she thought; a line creasing her forehead and making her look downright adorable.

“We had a Gabriel, yes. No Lucifers that I remember.”

Fareeha frowned and straightened, regretting it immediately when Mercy moved her head from her shoulder. No Lucifer? Was everything she knew a lie? “Are you fucking kidding me? So all that bullshit about Hell is just… bullshit?”

“Language,” Fareeha blinked twice as Mercy fixed her with a stern look. “We don’t swear.”

Fareeha was at a loss of words, gaping like a fish out of the water. Had she broken some unspoken rule? _Angels didn’t swear?!_

Mercy laughed and stood, walking lazily towards the edge of the roof of the new building they had chosen for the night. Fareeha groaned and fell back, lying flat against the rooftop.

“You’re so full of shit. I thought angels didn’t lie.”

It was going to be pouring down soon, a spider web of lightning making its way through the sky and thunder roaring in the distance. There was no impatience in the angel’s movements as she stretched her arms above her head, wings spreading wide at her back.

“Do you get off on my stupid face when you say those things?”

“Hmm…” That was not a no. Aaaand… there it was, the smirk. “Let’s leave a few questions for tomorrow, shall we? You’ll be dry before this century ends.”

 

**…**

 

“WOAH!”

Pharah had taken her sweet time, but the results were astounding. A slight tinge of blue haloed the regular white. The feathers didn’t look quite as delicate as hers and the ones at the tips were much longer. It suited her, Mercy thought. Pharah was taller and more muscular; her wings would have to carry a heavier weight than her own.

“They look beautiful.”

Mercy had conflicting feelings about it. On one hand, she was pleased. This meant no more carrying Pharah around. The aches and sore muscles from flying with the extra weight weren’t that enjoyable. On the other hand, if she had to be honest, she had enjoyed it. The closeness and Pharah’s warmth against her chest felt blissful. It was a selfish thought, one she wasn’t entitled to. Pharah had the right to leave as soon as she learned how to use the wings she’d earned. The yearning to keep Pharah grounded, or better – _worse_ –, to be the one holding her as they reached for the sky was probably due to the loneliness she’d had to endure for so long. Whatever the reason – and she really didn’t want to keep digging for those reasons –, Mercy wasn’t looking forward to all the wounds she’d have to patch up as Pharah learned to fly.

“I can _feel_ them!”

Pharah caught her by the waist, laughing and spinning them in circles. Mercy smiled, it was hard to stay worried when the bubbly excitement kept pouring out of Pharah in overwhelming waves.

“That’s amazing… But we have a situation we need to take care of first.”

Pharah flashed her a smirk and… was she saluting? Mercy blinked her eyes, dumbfounded.  Pharah jumped right into action.

 

**…**

 

"I can't control them. How do I even--? It's-- Ugh."

Pharah's wings moved erratically, she'd never be able to fly like this. Mercy placed calming hands on her shoulders, feeling the muscles beneath them relax just a bit.

"I can help. But only if you're sure you want me to."

Wide eyes stared back at her, disbelieving. "Why wouldn't I? It's what I've been asking for since— Of course I want you to help me!"

There was an annoyed huff that had Mercy flinching. Pharah arched an eyebrow.

"It's... Not everyone agrees to it." Was she blushing? "Wings are... sensitive." She was most definitely blushing. "To the touch. They're really sensitive to touch." Mercy's eyes were trained on her very interesting feet. What the hell...?

"And?"

It was Mercy's turn to huff in annoyance. "I mean, really sensitive." Pharah shrugged, clearly not comprehending. "Jeez. You're making this so complicated and awkward. Turn around."

Pharah did and Mercy's fingers hovered over a bluish mess of feathers. The next words were said in what was barely a whisper. "Don't freak out..." Pharah never had the chance to properly process the information. Before she knew, a shiver racked down her form and she felt hot and cold and her legs threatened to give in. Long fingers threaded through the feathers, applying gentle pressure. Pharah released all the air in her lungs in a single battered breath. Blood gathered in her cheeks, her whole face probably. She felt like she was burning under her collar and down her back, her skin flushing. And those weren't the only places.

Mercy retreated her hand with a sheepish half smile. "I tried to explain..."

Pharah just kept staring, trying to reign over her crazed heart. Her voice was huskier than she remembered it once she found it. "This will be harder than I first thought..."

 

**…**

 

This isn’t going to work.”

Fareeha was putting every ounce of energy she had left in trying to remain still, hide the shivers running down her spine. It was hard enough to keep her breathing patterns regular with Mercy’s fingers doing that thing they did.

“You broke your arm twice this week,” Mercy sounded like she was ready to throw a tantrum. It was probably her fault, her mood had been shifting so damn much during these sessions and she had no control over it. Her focus was in not letting her instincts take control.

“I think I can handle the broken bones,” Pharah whispered through gritted teeth.

Mercy was glaring at her. “That’s easy for you to say, I’m the one healing you.”

“Would you rather be the one whose wings are being _fondled_?” Silence stretched between them. Pharah tilted her head to glance in Mercy’s general direction. It wasn’t unusual for her to remain quiet while she thought of the best way to explain something to Pharah, but this time Pharah felt the hesitation. “Oh my God.”

Mercy rolled her eyes, warmth flooding to her cheeks. “Seriously? Of all things you could say?”

Pharah was trying her best not to laugh at the absurdity if it all. Mercy looked like she was about to slap the stupid grin off her face. Finally, she threw her hands in the air instead. Anger burned in her deep blue eyes, maybe embarrassment. “You want a broken clavicle?” Long white wings were unfurled, “Fine. Suit yourself.” The wind hit Pharah’s face and Mercy was gone.

 

**…**

 

Pharah was still wearing that shit eating grin that had been plastered all over her face hours prior when she came back. Her right arm was held tight against her chest. A dislocated shoulder, two scraped knees and a fractured rib were taken care of, but Mercy made sure to avoid healing her bruises this time.

 

**…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figurx8, Pharmercy, petras, MotherRameses, ochos, bzarcher, Sekxtion, HeavenlyBodiedJellal and Klompy...   
> You've brightened my day. Same to all the guests whose names I don't know, thank you so much! <3


	3. Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm... probably changing this to E-rated. Just in case. If you don't want sexual content, you probably want to avoid this chapter. 
> 
> I'm not religious, but... Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.

 

> “they keep telling me you’re a monster,  
>  a fallen angel with broken wings,  
>  but when I look into your eyes,  
>  all I see is a forsaken soul,  
>  a life lost in the winter storm,  
>  and, oh, since when did monsters have lips like yours?  
>  because as our lips met, we found home.”  
>  — maybe heroes were always meant to love fallen angels ||[k.s.](http://starcrossedpoetry.tumblr.com/post/153706362856/they-keep-telling-me-youre-a-monster-a-fallen)
> 
>  

 

 

Chapter 3: Forever

 

 

The one year anniversary was today. To someone like Mercy, it probably wasn’t a big deal after eons of living this king of life, but… to Pharah it was different. She still missed her friends, her father, everyone in her inner circle. That connection had yet to be severed, even with Fareeha dead.

It was really hard at times.

Mercy had promised it would become easier, she had advised Pharah to take it day by day, and it _was_ becoming easier. But only because Mercy was always there for her, a really good company with lots to talk about. This woman… angel… had witnessed every great event she could think of, with her own eyes!

Damn, she had witnessed the fucking Crusades! That was talking material for… centuries?

Her childlike excitement seemed to be somewhat endearing because it’d fuel Mercy into telling the tales with a level of detail that seemed impossible. Pharah never held back, if it got her stories it was worth the teasing. Those details, she should have probably forgotten about thousands of years ago. Pharah made the best of it, her questions were limitless. It was a nice plus that Mercy was all too willing to let her use her lap as a pillow every single night, delicate fingers carding through her – never changing and maybe even worsened by hours of searing through the sky – unruly hair. If Pharah could have slept at all, she’d have been a purring slumbering kitten in a matter of minutes.

There were days when Mercy would leave. Fly away to take care of only God knew – _yeah, yeah, bad reference…_ – what and return when the Sun was already setting on the horizon, since nights were sacred and to spend together. Pharah would use that time to touch a soul here and there. Prevent a distracted pedestrian from being hit, lead a good citizen away from a dangerous alley, stop a fire from happening, maybe a car crash; just little things that could mean the world for a mortal. It wasn’t boring, but it wasn’t as fulfilling when Pharah was on her own either. Crusaders and damsels in distress did sound like a much better alternative, but… well, times change?

Mercy had told her once, she could leave anytime. Pharah was her own person… angel, and she wasn’t tied to Mercy in any way. “I have done nothing but awaken you,” she had said. But Pharah didn’t want to leave. Would that be a problem? Was that even allowed for them, to stay together? Could anyone stop it from happening at all? Was she ever going to have the guts to explain that she wanted to stay instead of shrugging with feigned indifference when the subject was brought up? Probably not anytime soon. The vestige of insecurity her humanity had left behind was still powerful.

After everything they had shared, Pharah wasn’t sure about much.

Mercy was always affectionate and her emotions were crystal clear. There was not a single doubt in Pharah’s mind when it came to that; they were both equally fond of each other. Then again, emotions for angels, Pharah had come to learn and understand, were completely different from humans’. These were even stronger, incredibly powerful and enhanced by reciprocation. Love felt unconditional even for strangers.

(Pharah had once sniffled while a baby cried because of a loud noise and Mercy would never let her live it down).

It wasn’t surprising, then, that the love the angels felt for each other – and that was the only thing she knew for certain, it was mutual – could have possibly moved mountains. The idea of being separated from Mercy hurt so much the world looked like it was painted in grays.

But then, there was spending eternity bound to each other. Mercy had been around for so long, had been _alone_ for so long. Maybe she wanted Pharah to find her own path.

With the city painted in soft oranges and reds, Mercy returned in a flurry of feathers to the rooftop they had chosen for the night. There was a small box in her hands and one of those smiles on her face that had Pharah smiling back even in her darkest days. The small box was pushed into Pharah’s hands, Mercy’s smile turning into a full blown grin.

“Happy Birthday, Pharah.”

 

**…**

Was it supposed to be like this? Her fingers were frozen, clinging to the edge of the rooftop for dear life. Every muscle was refusing her commands. Mercy’s hands felt like silk on her cheeks, her jaw, everywhere they touched… Pharah tried to breathe normally when Mercy brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. What the fuck was wrong with her? Her nervousness was all over the air, it tasted sweet and sour; it was as obvious as it could be.

“We don’t have to—“

“No!” Pharah blurted the word out and was startled by the urgency of her own voice. A hint of a blush spread when Mercy chuckled, but then their foreheads were touching. The darkness surrounding them was getting much less thick by the minute, the Sun peeking over the eastern buildings. It was captivating to watch it play with the hues of blue staring into her soul.

Mercy’s voice was calm and careful. “I’m sorry. But you look really tense.”

It took a conscious effort to relax her arms and then the grip on the roof tiles. The air in her lungs escaped in a long sigh, eyes fluttering closed. Mercy’s smile was a balm to her wounds, even when she couldn’t see it. She could _feel_ it. In her bones. In her soul. In her heart. That bastard sped up as Mercy’s breath grazed her skin. Fingertips brushed over her arms, forearms, like a ghost of a caress, just barely there. Pharah was entranced. “That’s better.”

The softest lips in Heaven touched hers and Pharah was no longer Pharah, but a young Fareeha in her early teen years swooning over her first crush all over again. How could anything feel so… so… heavenly? There was just no other word to describe it. The corners of her lips curled slightly. Tanned arms snaked around Mercy’s waist and pulled her closer. Pharah smiled into the kiss, Mercy’s fingers tracing her jaw again. They moved just bit, breaking the contact without pulling away from each other. Pharah’s nervousness had evaporated, her voice replacing it with the soft words of a slightly off-key song.

_“You’ve got to… Kiss an angel good morning… and let her know you think about her when you’re gone… Kiss an angel good morning and love her like the devil when you get back home.”_

Mercy couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled from deep in her chest.

 

**…**

 

Everything was a blur of color and sounds and scents and flavors that were quickly overwhelming her, her heart felt like it was trying to escape the cage of her ribs. A grunt clawed its way up her throat as solid pavement met the side of her arm and shoulder. Pharah peeked one eye open, almost afraid to survey the damage. Her whole body hurt, but her soul was singing that melodic tune she had learned to love. The bundle in her arms moved and adjusted to rest comfortably against her chest.

The baby couldn’t be older than eight or nine months, his chubby hands reached up to touch Pharah’s braids, grey eyes brimming with tears that felt like daggers to the angel’s heart. Unsupervised, he had managed to crawl his way to the apartment’s balcony and things had almost gotten really bad for him. Careful as to not to strain her already hurting body, Pharah stood on shaky legs and spread her wings to take them up, to where the oblivious parents where still unaware of the recent events.

The kid, now calm, cooed and stretched his arms in Pharah’s direction as soon as she put him safely back on the carpeted floor of his room, making sure to slide the window closed on her way out. Lucky for him, he wouldn’t remember any of this in the years to come. Otherwise, the poor boy would develop an unhealthy fear of heights.

By the time Pharah reached the bell tower that would be their refuge for the night, she collapsed on her knees cradling her aching side with her left arm. Her right arm was pretty much useless anyways. Mercy arrived a couple minutes later, landing gracefully on a gargoyle’s back and glaring at her partner. That was a new record, the glare was there even before she touched ground.

“Again?!” Pharah went for a dashing smile that looked a lot more like a wince. “For God’s sake!”

“Oh, so _you_ can say _that_.”

Mercy just folded her arms over her chest and gave her a blank look. Frustration swirled in a blurry mix of reds in Pharah’s peripherals. Sure as hell, it wasn’t hers. _Oops_. On reflex, she scratched the back of her head and flinched when her whole body complained.

“I went for one of those… huh… Rocket jumps. It didn’t go as planned.”

“You don’t say…”

 

**…**

 

“Yes, there were at least… four thousand Arabs among the Fatimids. It was a gruesome battle. Faith has done terrible things to people since it has existed. God was no longer a beacon to lead them to peace anymore; it was a reason to put them against one another. I hated every second of what happened there, but I wasn’t smart enough to really understand the depth of it. The crusaders meant well, of course, but the means to that end were barbaric and I was forced to support their actions against those who weren’t fast enough to retreat. Many of those who fought back were blinded by their own faith, much like the Crusaders themselves,” Mercy nuzzled against the nape of Pharah’s neck and kept quiet for a few long seconds. “There was this one man, strong willed and brave. He was one of the few remaining when the crusaders hit the camp. This poor soul was wearing an old hauberk with more holes and missing links than I’ve ever seen.”

Blue haloed the weathered buildings crowding the area, the summer breeze suddenly feeling too cold and raising goosebumps along their arms. Pharah felt Mercy’s despair like it was her own. Her head tilted slightly and she leaned back, trying to fold her wings a bit more to nuzzle her face against the crook of her neck. It was a hard task, but not impossible. The bluish halo began to vanish as soon as Pharah’s lips pressed against a pale throat. Mercy hummed in appreciation, painful memories easier to endure with the waves of comfort and sympathy washing over her. It was vivid, her mind eye flashing images and sounds. The scent of blood was overpowering as ever, there was no battle free of bloodshed. But the smell of death and decay was even worse. The arms around Pharah’s body tightened on their own volition.

“Aman was his name. He died with honor, if that means anything at all. I wanted to claim him, bring him to Heaven. I wasn’t exactly young by then, but I still believed there was hope for anyone with a pure heart. Needless to say, those weren’t the rules,” Mercy’s voice trembled with a rage, Pharah knew, was an echo of the feeling from back then. She didn’t want to ever feel the entirety of it if the millennia tempered echo was this raw and consuming. “God played us all and we were too naïve, too blinded by our unwavering love for humanity. There was a small minority that was stirred up by the Crusades, Angels defying God for the first time in history. They had figured it out… Heaven was nothing but a concept. A beautiful trap to keep Angels satisfied and lure humans into kneeling down and obeying. For Heaven, for that promise, they were eager to serve and fulfill their God’s every whim.”

“It wasn’t your fault. Your intentions were always good,” Pharah’s fingers trailed a line along white knuckles. Mercy sighed in an attempt to bring herself back to present, turning her open hand palm up. Pharah took the chance to lace their fingers together.

“Yes, they were… But you know what they say; the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.”

 

**…**

 

“Relax,” As if the husky voice, barely above a whisper against her ear, wasn’t enough to cause a full body shudder to ripple through her… Mercy’s hand was moving slowly – so fucking slowly –down her abdomen. “It’s okay.” Her lips pressed against the spot beneath her ear and left to follow a path down the back of her neck. Her bare shoulder was next. Pharah couldn’t sit still, her fingers twitching impatiently. It was a lost battle trying to suppress the urge to squirm.

This was such a sweet kind of torture, but Mercy had insisted in taking it slow. Angels’ sensations and emotions could get too overwhelming if you weren’t used to them. Pharah had been one for not much more than a year. Not enough to get used to the intensity of it and certainly not enough for something like _this_. She was already gritting her teeth and Mercy had done nothing to her yet. What would be of her when she decided to take this further? That thought alone made her— Fucking God…

“You know I can feel that, right?” Mercy’s voice like this did so many things to her, or maybe it was Mercy’s own arousal. Pharah could feel the smirk on her lips as she pressed them softly down her shoulder blade. “You’re not making this easy for me…”

“For you?” The attempt of a complaint was interrupted by a traitorous gasp. “I’m pretty sure I’m gonna melt into a puddle right about now,” Pharah couldn’t find the presence of mind to care about the way her voice strained with tension. Somewhere in the back of her mind, her brain tried to register Mercy’s chuckle.

“But we are just getting started.”

Mercy’s left hand, the one that wasn’t too busy trailing lines of fire up and down her stomach, made its way up her spine. Blinding white light exploded into the whole spectrum behind Pharah’s eyelids – _when had she closed her eyes?!_ – like a supernova as the fingers threaded through the silky feathers of the lesser covert. A strangled groan escaped her lips, her wing twitching and her body leaning even more into the warmth at her back. The sound seemed to please her partner, because her lips met the point where her other wing met her shoulder blade and her fingertips wandered higher to brush against the underside of one of her breasts.

Had Pharah been more alert, she would have regretted not taking all her clothes off. The remaining garments on her lower body felt _so_ _fucking_ _constricting_ right now and it was only going to get worse really soon. Sooner than expected, actually.

Apparently, Pharah wasn’t the only one getting impatient here, since Mercy’s control seemed to be faltering. Her nails dragged all the way down from Pharah’s collarbone, a bit more gently over her breast barely teasing its peak, just to get rough again as they scraped down towards a jutting hip bone. The lips that had so carefully avoided applying too much pressure before were now parted, open mouthed kisses pressed instead against her heated skin. It was too much and yet not enough. Not enough at all. Pharah was focusing on not whining, her hand reaching behind to catch Mercy’s thigh, nails digging into the pale skin at her reach. Mercy didn’t seem to mind. If anything, it caused her breath to hitch and her pale hand to move lower. Pharah’s eyes followed its path and that needy whine she fought so hard to contain finally escaped her lips when it slid beneath the waistband of her pants.

A hissed _yes_ escaped her instead of the pleading words already dancing at the tip of her tongue. Her back arched slightly, blunt nails digging a bit deeper and sliding down milky skin when Mercy’s fingers were made their way over her clit and towards the wet heat beneath. It was driving her insane; desire was consuming her from the inside out like a wildfire. Raw electricity spread from her core to every nerve end in her body, making them sizzle and roar to life. The pressure on her lower body continued to build with every circle Mercy painted and it seemed like there was no limit for it.

Then Mercy _growled_ against her skin.

This was just fucking unfair. Pharah was already so damn close, she didn’t think her brain could resist another one of those sounds.

“You better hold on tight for this…”

The warning couldn’t have done anything for Pharah even if she had been paying attention. The fingers had never stopped. If anything, they had become more insistent, and that was quite enough to push Pharah over the edge. But Mercy had bit down on the edge of her wing and Pharah had never felt so unprepared for anything in her life. The heat was blistering; the waves of pleasure kept wracking her body one after another. Pharah wasn’t aware of the groans and moans slipping past her lips anymore, the only thing keeping her from floating away or turn into ashes was Mercy’s voice, now against her right ear again.

“I’m here,” It was a warm voice now, gentle and loving. The heat was subsiding too, much more bearable, a different kind of warmth settling heavy— no, real, _tangible_ inside her chest. “I’ve got you, Fareeha.”

 

**…**

“I’m not leaving,” Pharah stood there, making use of all her height and trying her hardest to look intimidating. Mercy cleared her throat to avoid laughing at the display, nodding her head instead with the sternest expression she could muster. “I don’t want to, I want to be with you,” she added, tilting her head in that adorable way, and Mercy’s resolution almost faltered. “I-Is that okay?”

A forced sigh left her lips, arms folding over her chest as she scrutinized the young angel in front of her. Despite her not trying at all to look threatening, Pharah fidgeted under the intense stare. To her defense, her eyes didn’t leave deep blue ones. Mercy let her squirm a little before standing on her toes and kissing the tip of her nose, Pharah looking at her in stunned silence at the change of demeanor. There was so much love in that gaze, her entire world crumbled to pieces and was put back together in the blink of an eye, so much stronger, so much more powerful. Pharah noticed then, Mercy made her so much happier than she’d ever thought possible.

“You’re such an idiot,” Pharah blinked her eyes, unable to resist the pull when that soft hand cradled her cheek. Mercy’s lips were barely touching hers. “Like I’d ever let you go.”

 

**...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your support! Story finished, I liked this AU so much.
> 
> It's been lovely to write this for you. I'm still very new to this, but I'm practicing a lot lately and I'll try to get better so I can give you awesome stories to read in the future. Any grammar errors, mispellings and such... English is still being a pain in the ass and I don't have anyone to beta-read, so I apologize for those. I'll be glad to make corrections if you point the mistake. <3
> 
> Again, sending kinaesthetic (featheredpranks), Lunari and the guests whose names I don't get to know all my love and my thanks.  
> You're awesome, my dudes.


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